(My husband and I have been married for a year now. Whenever our families get together for the holidays, the topic of children comes up—especially when WE are going to have them. During a Christmas party at my in law’s house, his father is telling me all the stories about my husband when he was a child. We are talking about it on the drive home.)

Me: “You were a troublesome child.”

Husband: “What? I was always a good child!”

Me: “That’s not what your dad says. Going down a double black diamond when you’re only seven, calling your dad an f’ing idiot to your mother when you’re just three!”

Husband: “Yeah, he likes those stories.”

Me: “See. That’s why we can’t have kids. If they turn out like you, it’d be bad.”

Husband: “Whoa! Good child! I was the good child!”

Me: “Well, I wasn’t! I was a manipulative instigator.” *pause* “So, that’s it, then. We can’t have kids because if we do, they’ll end up being a combination between the two of us: troublesome, manipulative, evil demon children. I don’t know if I feel right about bringing that evil into this world.”

Husband: “That’s going to be my excuse from now on. I can’t place that evil upon others.”

Me: “We would be the ones having to deal with that evil! I can’t deal with the evil!” *pauses, nods sagely* “It’s decided, then. We can’t have kids. They will be demons.”